


To Serve Your King

by ratchet_intellectual



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Advance Wakandan pills makes ass eating okay, Deep Throating, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Spitroasting, Takes place in comicverse not MCU, Threesome, ass eating, small amount of nipple play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratchet_intellectual/pseuds/ratchet_intellectual
Summary: W'Kabi and Erik work through their feelings towards each other while fucking T'Challa silly.





	To Serve Your King

**Author's Note:**

> Been working on this for a month so hope y'all like it. UPDATE FEB 17: no spoilers but I can’t stress this point: I wrote this well before he movie so any parts of it that might come off as weird or OCC was done because I was using the comic book, not the movie, for reference thanks!

T'Challa was not used to vulnerability. He was strong, mind, body, and soul. He was the protector of his people and held a Goddess blessed warrior heart. He embodied strength with his muscles and great feats of agility. He was a hunter, a killer, stalking his enemies before pouncing in.

Yet, here he was feeling vulnerable and soft. His naked body laid between W’Kabi, his most trusted friend, and Erik,once his worse enemy now reformed. Erik was nestled between his legs while W’Kabi cradled his head in his lap. The two were kneeling over him, cornering him in, watching him with eyes darkened with hunger. For the first time in his life, T'Challa felt like prey.

Erik ran a calloused hand up his thigh and onto his stomach. His fingers skimmed over abdominal muscles and ribs. He was smirking down at T'Challa, happy to finally have him on his back.

“So beautiful my king. A very nice form.” The honorific came out dripping in belittlement but T'Challa knew the compliment was genuine. Over his head, W’Kabi clicked his tongue.

“Watch your mouth.” The military advisor warmed. W’Kabi still didn't trust the former criminal. His hands rested on T'Challa’s shoulders, massaging the tense meat there. Erik just laughed.

“Still willing to humble yourself while you have him like this, needy and ready to be filled.” Erik eyed T'Challa's hardened length with a wicked smile. He had secured a simple metal band around the base of the king's cock to ensure the other did not cum until told to do so. The snug metal ring fitted around his length was a constant reminded of his lack of control in the situation. It was equal parts frustrating and arousing.

“I am serving my king.” W’Kabi stated, fingers coming up to lovingly caress the side of T'Challa's face.

“And service him you shall Little One.” Erik said, tagging on the insulting name he knew W'Kabi hated. Compared to the former criminal and the king, W'Kabi was more stout and smaller in size.

Erik finally stopped rubbing T'Challa down and reached below to prod at his exposed hole. A simple black buttplug of adequate size was shoved in earlier that afternoon by an overzealous Erik who bent the king over his work table and said “keep it in until tonight”.

Around the plug, T'Challa was stretched and wet. His hole had gone soft, slack and used to having something in him. Erik toyed with the handle, slowly twisting the toy causing T'Challa to squirm in his position. Erik then began to pump it in and out in shallow thrusts. He tested the give of the king’s walls, happy to see that he was met with no resistance.

“You are such a good boy when you want to be T'Challa. So obedient and ready to do what you must to get fucked thoroughly.” Erik said. He continued to push and pull the plug. With his free hand he inserted his thumb in T'Challa's pliant mouth. The finger pressed down on the width of his tongue as T'Challa began to suck. On the other side W’Kabi watched silently, completely transfixed.

“That's right, he knows just what to do.” The former criminal looked over at his accomplice. “His mouth is so hot and wet. As if made for cock sucking.”

W’Kabi said nothing for a moment. In his simple black pants, his own dick was straining and hard. His king looked so delicious like this, open and willing. Finally he replied.

“He is a man of many talents indeed.” Erik let out a bark of laughter.

“So cordial, Little One. So formal. It's alright to say it.” He replaced his thumb with his pointer and middle finger, sliding them in and out at the same pace as he did the plug.

“Say what?”

“How much you want to fuck his mouth.”

The crude words were a violent, erotic shock to W’Kabi’s system. He looked down at T'Challa's head and tried to meet his eyes. They were beautiful, dark and shiny, and they gave him permission to say his truth.

“Yes...I really, really do.”

“Do what?” Erik said, egging him on. W’Kabi looked down at the beautiful, amazing man in his lap, saying it to him instead of Erik.

“I want to fuck your mouth. Your highness.” The honorific at the end made T'Challa groan, pushing himself down onto the plug. Erik made a chiding sound.

“No my liege. Stand down.” T'Challa responded with a muffled groan. The criminal pulled his fingers free and marveled at how wet they got from his mouth. “What a perfect sight.”

Before Erik could lick up the wetness for himself, the military advisor grabbed his wrist and lapped up the moisture. W’Kabi allowed his tongue to trail over the dark fingers, savoring the taste of his king while ignoring the nonexistent tang of Wakandan blood that once stained that very hand. Erik smirked, pleased with this display as well.

“Anything to have your king, aye Little One?” His words were condescending but again, W’Kabi paid it no mind. When he was sure that no trace of T'Challa was left on the fingers, he flung the hand back as if offended. T'Challa waited patiently under them, watching the interaction with heavy eyes.

“Turn over Challa.” Erik instructed. He pushed his hip as the king went from his back to his hands and knees. In this position his ass was in Erik’s face and his lips leveled with W'Kabi’s.

The advisor leaned in for a kiss just as Erik pulled out the butt plug. T’Challa let out a breathy moan as their lips touched. Unconsciously, he pushed his ass out, looking for more to fill it. Erik chuckled.

“Patience my king. You will have your fill soon.” Erik’a breath washed over his ass cheek and before he could think twice, the ex-con was eating T'Challa’s gaped, wet hole.

Erik was messy and methodical, taking quick long drags of his tongue. He swirled around the rim before dipping in then back out.

W’Kabi had never seen anyone do this in real life(what he did with his private video bead was his business) and the act was mystifying. They had all taken the proper pills to make acts such as this more hygienic but there was something still dirty about it. Dirty in a way that got him hot and bothered. He couldn't focus on kissing T'Challa, too wrapped up in watching Erik devour the king's sweet ass.

Erik gave two hard slaps across the king's supple checks as he ate. T'Challa cried out and pushed himself further back into the skilled tongue. He wanted more, needed more. He was slowly losing the cool resolve he drilled into himself. T'Challa wanted Erik to fill him quickly but to miss out on the lavish attention his asshole was facing was too good to pass up.

“Abi…” T'Challa could barely form a coherent sentence but still tried to get the other's attention back on kissing him. W’Kabi was finally able to stop looking and focus on taking T'Challa's mouth. Even in this passive state T'Challa demanded and controlled. The advisor couldn't help but fold. He wasn't like Erik. He could not plunder and rob this man, the man he swore his life to on Bas and the Panther God, and take his fill of pleasure. However, he was content to give.

Their kiss was passionate and gentle, a stark contrast to Erik’s manic tongue strokes. It cooled the heated urgency that burnt. T'Challa's stomach and brought him to a calmer point. He was able to appreciate W'Kabi’s soft lips and agile tongue that slid across his teeth and gums. The advisor took a daring nip of the king's lower lip, bringing it between his teeth to gnaw at it.

T'Challa moaned into the kiss when Erik stuck two broad fingers into him. His thighs quivered as the ex-con roughly fingered his already loose hole. His fingers were thick and there was nothing left for him to do but push back onto them with his full weight.

W’Kabi held the trembling king as his eyes opened again to make contact with Erik’s. The ex-con nodded. It was time to move on.

The advisor and former criminal moved away almost completely from the ruler. T'Challa crumpled to the bed, body gone slack from frustration. His orgasm laid just out of his reach and the instant removal of pleasure left him feeling cold.

Erik ran a rough hand over the king’s asscheek, semi- reviereant. His thumb to one last swipe down the exposed, wet asshole.

“Are you ready my king?” Erik asked. One of his hands grabbed his own throbbing member, the other to T'Challa's hip, hoisting him back up into position. The king gave no response other than a slow nod.

W'Kabi touched along T'Challa's chin to left his gaze upwards. He then cradled the cheek, thumb stroking the skin it could reach. They locked eyes and in that simple contact the advisor tried to impart in his highness words he didn't say.

You can stop this at anytime.

I won't let him hurt you.

You can trust me.

T'Challa smiled at his closest friend. He turned his head to kiss the well worn palm. A simple gesture in turn that gave W'Kabi comfort. His king knew what he meant.

Behind them, Erik had gotten impatient(jealous) from watching the intimate moment that so pointedly excluded him. He released his cock to take hold of T'Challa more soundly with both hands, gripping hard.

“Focus, your highness.” On me was left unsaid. To appease the former criminal, T'Challa spread his legs further, arching his back sweetly. A sign that he was ready for more.

Erik took his invitation. He lined himself up once again, his sticky head pressed firmly against the king’s hole. The two hissed at the feeling. So close but not enough.

But soon.

He pushed forward. The tight wet heat opened beautifully for him. The ride inside was smooth like silken butter. It gripped and pulled Erik in and for a moment, with his dark eyes trained on T'Challa's back, he could pretend that it was a perfect fit between the two.

T'Challa had sworn to silence but he could not stop the small pants that leaked out. Finally being filled by a hot, fat cock was intoxicating. His own cock started to drip continuously onto the sheets. The king savored the feeling of being stuffed, eyes rolling back. He almost forgot W'Kabi was at his front.

Almost.

The advisor had sat back to watch his former nemesis impale his king on his dick. The image was more erotic than he could imagined as his king was split open so perfectly, ass engulfing the thick member with ease. He wanted to double check with T'Challa to make sure he wasn't in pain but that was not the name of the game. If the ruler wanted to end it, he could use their safe word. Instead, he watched beautiful eyes rolled back in their sockets. He admired the way T'Challa trembled to keep from pushing back on the cock inside him.

W'Kabi looked to Erik who had now started to pump in and out of the king in short motions, similar to his work with the butt plug. Erik, the cocky fool, smirked at the advisor. His eyes dared W'Kabi to take his fill as well. He looked back to T'Challa whose mouth was shined with spit and slack from pleasure. It was open and waiting.

“Can you handle more my king?” W'Kabi asked, his tone soft. T'Challa flicked out his tongue, a devilish move, and smirked. He nodded in place of words.

W'Kabi sat up properly so he could slide his hands into his pants and pulled out his cock. It was heavy in his own fingers, twitching with his inner energy. While the advisor tried to calm himself, his cock betrayed his excitement. Carefully he lead his tip to his king's lips, cradling the back of T'Challa's head.

The first touch was electrifying. T'Challa's lips were supple and pliant. His mouth opened and allowed for W'Kabi to slide in along his tongue. T'Challa moaned around the dick, eyes fluttered shut to savor in the feeling. Erik started to pick up the pace behind him. His hard slaps echo through the chambers.

“Can you take more?” W'Kabi asked but he was already pushing forward. Soon he bumped the back of his king's throat. T'Challa angled his throat down and took him into the pulsating heat. The advisor brushed his fingers along his cheek before moving so both hands rested on the curve of T'Challa's skull. Slowly, ever so slowly, he started to move in and out. W'Kabi trained his breathe to slow down so he could focus.

“You are not taking advantage of the feast laid out before you.” Erik muttered.

Erik watched the king swallowed his underling in one smooth, practiced go. The skill aroused and angered him. Who had the king been practicing on? W'Kabi was far too skittish to be the one, panting and dazed like a virginal maiden. The thought made him push in harder just so he could make T'Challa moaned around the length in his mouth and cause W'Kabi to falter.

Erik started to fuck into his king brutally. W'Kabi couldn't bare to keep up with the other’s powerful strokes. T'Challa started to choke as he tried to steel himself against the onslaught. It was perfect, too much, completely filling, and he to pull off of W'Kabi to catch his breath. The military advisor glared over the king's shoulder.

“Stop! You're hurting him.” His voice was harsh, eyes cutting. Erik just smiled and didn't stop. His eyes were dark. Perfect. Maybe he would leave and he could have T'Challa to himself. He buckled down on the harder rhythm. He fucked into T'Challa as if it was his only mission, as if the king's prostate held the key to his redemption.

“Give a bit more credit to your king.” Erik said mockingly, thrusts hitting in hard with every word. “He will not break. He is strong. Right dear?” He took a big hand to grab T'Challa's jaw, forcing his head up to look at the council member in the eye. In an easy shift of the arms, Erik pulled T'Challa up from his bowed position. The king's back was slammed into his chest and his legs were spread wide by Erik’s powerful thighs. T'Challa was impaled on the thick cock. The new position caused T'Challa to scream in pleasure.

“See? He loves it.” Erik said over T'Challa's shoulders. He took his focus from W'Kabi to drill into the man on top of him. It was almost too much for him as well. T'Challa was so sweet and tight, the pressure driving him forward to chase the inescapable heat.

T'Challa blink through the sweat with short huffs. He knew what Erik was doing, even through the thick fog of pleasure. Erik’s arm had encircled him, keeping the king to his chest and more importantly on his dick. Still, with weak arms, T'Challa reached out to his oldest friend. An open invitation to not be pushed away by Erik.

W’Kabi was torn by his anger. Half of him wanted to beat Erik off of his king, send him off to jail so he and T'Challa can take hours together making soft, sweet love. The other half wanted to beat Erik at his own game and take from T'Challa like his old enemy did, ransacking the king's body for everything it would give.

However neither feeling won out and W'Kabi surged forward with a renewed determination for a completely different reason.

He claimed T'Challa's lips again. This time the kiss was messy and fierce. T'Challa went pliant against the attack, sobbing with relief. W'Kabi pulled away and looked at Erik

“You will not use him.” W'Kabi said. It could've been interpreted in many ways. W'Kabi himself was not too sure what he meant, especially since using T'Challa was the point of this tryst.

But it wasn't.

He and Erik were here to pull T'Challa out of his head, away from the pressures of his title, and into a place of relaxation and freedom found in losing control. He is to be loved not used.

W'Kabi turned back to his king.

“T'Challa. I need you to focus. On me. On the pleasure. On the feelings I- we are giving you. I need you to focus on the task at hand: you will suck me off. You will enjoy it. You will do it not for me but for yourself, do you understand? No half attempts. You will suck my cock and be thankful for it.”

And if that ringhad not been on so tightly, T'Challa was sure he would have came right then and there. The sound of W'Kabi taking charge was beyond sexy and T'Challa restrained from telling him so. Instead he tried to show him with his face that he was ready to get to work and get lost in the action of giving and receiving.

Erik sucked his teeth. His thrust had slowed when they started to kiss and had stopped all together when W'Kabi started to speak. He could not lie, what W'Kabi said made his cock impossibly harder. For the first time that night W'Kabi stood his ground against him and it was hot.

Very, very hot.

W'Kabi then pushed at Erik's shoulder. A firm instruction.

“Get off the bed.” He looked at his king with love. “You are going back on your knees. It will be easier for you.”

“You are taking charge Little One?” Erik said. His voice was strained and the insult did not have the biting edge he wanted. Nevertheless he did not motion to move him or T'Challa.

W'Kabi didn't respond for a moment. He leaned in forward to kiss T'Challa's cheek then his neck, lavishing the exposed skin with his tongue and licking up the salty sweat that powdered his skin.

T'Challa squirmed under the attention and wanted action. The cock in him had stilled and he needed Erik to go back to pounding him. He need W'Kabi to put his dick back in his mouth. He didn't want to slow this down but the attention W'Kabi was showering him in now was too delicious to rush. While on the battlefield indecision was deadly, here in the bedroom the mixed feelings were allowed. T'Challa slowed his buzzing mind down to focus on the feel of soft lips against his neck and to cherish the loving gesture.

W'Kabi pressed his chest to T'Challa's and began to trace lazy circles with his fingers on the king's abdomen and back as he kissed at his shoulders. He even crawling up Erik's arm with sure fingers tracing random patterns. Three shades of brown layered on top of each other and seemed to melt into one continuous gradient. They were together and endlessly in each other. W'Kabi nailed them into this moment because while he was no virgin, sex like this was new to him. Even if Erik, or sadly T'Challa, did not want to feel a deeper connection, W'Kabi wasn't going to deprive himself for the sack of what this secession should be, erotic video instructions be damned.

So he held onto the both of them for a moment longer until he was sure that their heartbeats synced.

The intimacy that W'Kabi had just invoked scared Erik for several different reason. He couldn't fully accept this kindness. It felt almost like love when the three of them were so close, their heartbeats synced together like a drum group. The moment was honeyed and really, Erik did not deserve kindness like this.

He came for sex with T'Challa, which he would never turn down no matter its form, and the warmth of another body or two that could chase away the unnatural cold he still felt at times. A cold that reminded him of harsh Harlem winters that no amount of Wakandan sun could melt. This moment with this stupidly simple gesture was a nicety he didn't deserve and he thought W'Kabi of all people would know that.

So instead of fighting him more, Erik pulled back. He almost wept when he slipped free of the clenching heat of T'Challa and the glowing warmth of the group embrace. The movement was sudden and jolted the other two. They both looked at him but Erik slid off to the ground at the foot of the bed.

“Let us continue. If Little One wants to lead, let him.” He tried to sound uncaring and cool but his voice was not genuine. He thanked the goddess that neither commented and instead moved to reposition themselves.

W'Kabi watched as T'Challa scuttled a bit awkwardly back towards the edge. Erik helped steady him with two hands on his hips. From this position with his feet firmly on the ground he was more of a sturdy and imposing force.

Once everyone settled in, W'Kabi grabbed T'Challa's cheeks to bring his eyes to his still pulsing erection. The advisor looked to Erik and nodded. Erik grabbed his own dick again and pulled T'Challa's asscheeks apart with one hand.  
Simultaneously they slid into their respective ends, filling the waiting king just as he craved.

This time, W'Kabi and Erik were able to find a rhythm together that worked in tandem instead of against one another. The pace was rough. Erik pump into the tight heat, his cock head hitting T'Challa's prostrate on every stroke. W'Kabi forced his length across his tongue, down his throats and back out over and over again.

T'Challa had to focus on not letting his teeth scrape against the tender skin but soon his mouth went slack. Drool and precum spilled from the corners. He was totally and utterly fucked out with the two fucking into him as if he was just a hole.

No. Something more.

The two fucked him as if he was in need of life changing dick. They fucked him like the cure for what ailed them rested somewhere in his pleasure. The intensity of feelings, the hot cock in his ass and the other in his mouth, the warmth he had in his heart for both men, the urge to release but inability to do so, hit him like a hyper train.

Erik curled over T'Challa's back, one hand going up to grab the silk sheets with an iron grasp. He kissed at the sweaty neck in front of him and tried not to come. If it was good before, this was god made heaven. T'Challa seemed to come alive with W'Kabi’s stern orders. The sounds of his moans being forced down by a heavy cock were the most delicious thing he ever heard. When he looked up, he caught the sight of W'Kabi’s face.

The advisor was completely lost in the passion of the moment. His was biting his bottom lip, eyes closed. A scarred hand had the back of T'Challa's head in a death grip not so much forcing the king down but grounding himself in the sensation of the sloppy mouth working him. His chest heaved as he tried to will himself against coming. The sweat glistened on the dark skin made the W'Kabi shine in a way(or, Erik reasoned, it might have been pieces of his hair in his own eyes). W'Kabi let out a heated grunt as his neck muscles strained. He was losing himself and Erik had a front row seat to the show.

But what really got the ex-con, what had utterly destroyed Erik, was when W'Kabi brought his free hand up to his chest to give his right nipple a tentative squeeze. The quick,almost ashamed pinch, made W'Kabi let out a wrecked moan as hs head dropping forward. Something about the combination of W'Kabi playing with his nipple while he thought no one was looking, T'Challa happily deepthroating the man’s cock,and the impossible soft ass around his cock ripped Erik's orgasm from him like a thief in the night.

“Fuck!” He yelled, continuing to pump in and out as he ripped the silk sheets. His hot seed poured into the awaiting ass. T'Challa milked him dry as he arched up more into the last few pushes.

W'Kabi quickly throw his hand from his chest as his eyes opened. Erik, big bad Erik, had came first. Before he could really gloat, W'Kabi saw the how utterly wrecked the former criminal was. His face was washed in sweat. His eyes blurred and his stupid locs fell into his eyes, making his face soft. He looked so vulnerable and sated.

T'Challa sucked hard in exchange for moaning. The hum reverberated through W'Kabi's cock. Panting hard, Erik straightened up. He was still inside T'Challa and he looked at the advisor with those orgasm softened eyes.

W'Kabi closed his eyes to focus on chasing his own orgasm. Now both hands on the back of T'Challa's head forcing him down harder as he moved his hips to a rhythm only they could hear. He went fast, cock soaking wet and hot.

W'Kabi tried to focus on the pure sensations. T'Challa's soft hair under his finger tips. His hot mouth around his throbbing dick. The feel of the silk sheets on his toes. They were bits of a puzzle falling into place and driving him closer and closer to an edge he couldn't see.

Right as he stood on the horizon of his climax, he was shoved into it unexpectedly by rough fingers tugging onto both his nipples at the same time, yanking them, and him, over. The surprise action caused him to shot into T'Challa's waiting mouth as the king dutifully drank him down. Small rivers of what he couldn't get dropped from the corners of his mouth. When W'Kabi opened his eyes he saw Erik still twisting one of his nipples with the other hand now holding T'Challa's nose close so the king had no other option but to swallow and choke.

W'Kabi was too drained to tell him to let go and instead relished in the feeling of his nipple being played with.

When the king pulled off his softened cock Erik let go of the nose and nipple. T'Challa struggled to catch his breath as his tongue went out to lap up what he couldn't get. His chest was heaving, cock still in his ass and his own dick still hard as a rod.

They were all still for a moment.

“Such a good king.” Erik said finally in a hushed tone, scared to find anyone who might hear a genuine compliment delivered sincerely. He pulled his cock free from the entrance and slowly turned T'Challa over to rest on the end, his legs hanging over the edge.

“Very good. He swallowed everything he could.” W'Kabi added. He peered down at the king's face from his position above. T'Challa was a mess, dirtied and claimed in a way he never saw him before. The advisor took his finger to wipe up a few drops of semen the king's tongue couldn't reach.

Mirroring what W'Kabi had done earlier, Erik grabbed his wrist so he could bring his fingers to his mouth and lick up the cum for himself. The feeling of the ex con’s tongue running over his fingers reinvigorating W'Kabi.

“But we are not done, are we?” W'Kabi stated.

Erik took a wobbled step back to look at the complete picture: his king with his leg spread wide, his cum dripping out of T'Challa's used hole, W'Kabi still kneeling over the king, he himself looking delectable and messy.

W'Kabi moved off the bed to stand at Erik's side.

“No,” Erik agreed. “We are not.”

The two loomed over the king as they analyzed their options. T'Challa waited patiently and though he was so tired, throat sore and fucked raw, he wanted to take whatever they would give him. The silence of the room once filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin was deafening.

“I want to eat you out.” W'Kabi said definitively. He licked his lips as he crouched like a panther coming up on injured prey. “I want to eat his cum out of you and taste you.”

T'Challa responded with a long moan and wider legs to better reveal his puffed hole that oozed cum.

The advisor kneeler between T'Challa's legs and placed a kiss on top of the bruises Erik had made earlier that night.

T'Challa shook his head, not as a sign of opposition, but because it was all too much. The idea of W'Kabi eating cum out of his ass was too much. He looked at Erik as the other weighed his options.

“I, too, want to taste you.”

Erik got on the bed to lie on his stomach at T'Challa's side. He watched the king's hardness stand tall, beads of precum rolling down its sides. Erik felt the heat of it before he touched it. He ran his fist up and down the length and caused T'Challa to hiss. The neglect to his cock during the previous fucking left him aching.

Erik set a steady pace as W'Kabi moved forward with a determined mouth. T'Challa's hole was centimeters away from W'Kabi's lips. The advisor watched the hole quivered and he could tell the king was trying to hold in some of the seed. That action itself was too much to ignore, W'Kabi  
reached out with his tongue to close the gap, taking his first taste of T'Challa's most intimate area.

The first lick, a bit hesitant, delighted W'Kabi. The tang of sweat that collected in the crease mixed against the sharp spillage from Erik. It wasn't wholly unpleasant and by the second swipe W'Kabi was addicted. He dug in, slotting his mouth against the opening to suck and lap wildly at the exposed hole. T'Challa was left to groan and bear it as he forced his body to lie on the bed.

After W'Kabi started to earnestly owork, Erik went to take a long lick of T'Challa's dick.

“Ahhhh…” T'Challa moaned out, clipping his mouth shut before actual words could spill forward.

It was what he needed in a different way than the previous fucking. With the mouth on his ass and the other tongue on his cock, he knew he would soon explode. His panting grew fast and high pitched, sounding alien to his own ears.

Erik pulled back to hush the king with a wicked smile.

“You are so sweet my king. So strong when you let go.” He cooed before diving back onto the hard cock presented to him. Erik slid an arm underneath the small of the king's back to prop him up to get a better view of the show going on between his legs.

W'Kabi was lost to it all. He was intently focused on tasting more, getting more, from the king. His tongue moved wildly changing in speed and direction on a whim. The feeling of eating out his precious king when days ago being in this bed in such a heated situation seemed like only a dream.

The advisor held T'Challa's hips to prevent him from fucking into Erik’s mouth. The ex-criminal sucked and licked at the velveteen skin, tasting the tang of the king's cum. Erik allowed for his mouth to drool and make a sloppy mess in T'Challa's crotch.

It was building to a point of unbearable pressure T'Challa could not go another second without unleash.

“Please...I beg you. Please…” His voice was still raw. Desperation had bled into his vocals, straining his tone and sounding like heaven to the other two men.

Erik pulled off of the cock in his mouth to look at W'Kabi who also stopped his rapid tongue movements to meet his gaze.

T'Challa sobbed- howled almost- at the lost of pleasure. He was sexually frustrated in every sense of the phrase. He felt the mental bonds that kept him in the submissive role cracking, the inner panther roaring to take and conquer. He took short breaths through his mouth, exhaling for a prolonged time out his nose. He needed to stay out and accept his lack of control.

Instead of focusing on his climax, he pushed out all other thoughts to focus on the feel of four strong hands caressing and holding him.

Erik looked at how wrecked the king was. His body was trembling with uneven breathe, skin covered in sweat. His shiny dark eyes were explosive and all the former criminal wanted to do was to usher him into the last vestiges of pleasure.

“Little One? Shall we finish this?”

W'Kabi nodded and went back to work. He sucked and prodded the hole, lapping up all the cum he could reach. He had fallen in love with this and swore to try to do it again in the near future with his king. The advisor was encouraged by the moans leaking from T'Challa's mouth, determined now not to stop until he came.

The return of sensation caused T'Challa to gasp out. He fisted the torn and sullied sheets waiting in the cusp of release.

Erik laid down again so he could swallow the king's dick in one motion. His hand went to play with his balls that were heavy with seed. He tugged them gently, massaging them in his hand. Then his hand travelled down to get a hold of W'Kabi's fingers to pry them off the muscled thigh they clang to.

When Erik first agreed to have sex with both T'Challa and W'Kabi, he was sure he was going to dominate and take while the puny advisor sat and watched. He and he alone would make T'Challa come, his name would be in the king's lips, and he would control the situation. Now, as the neared the end of the act, he couldn't find it in himself to exclude W'Kabi as he planned. How could he? Not with him eating T'Challa's ass as if it would save his soul. Not when his face caused Erik to cum faster than he hoped.

He hated whatever warm softness had grown from towards the other man as they dominated T'Challa together. After this, Erik swore he would kill this feeling dead before it had time to bubble away from him like his love for T'Challa did.

But Erik was a masochist and still secretly, privately, relished in the ability to hold W'Kabi’s hand for a moment as he deep throated T'Challa's cock. He then pulled off the tip and lead the others hand to the release latch on the cock ring, designed specifically to open only at their touch.

W'Kabi understood what the other was trying to do and grabbed onto the ring. Together, they opened it, finally freeing their king.

T'Challa sobbed out in victory because hewas finally, _finally_ , free.

The king wished he could say that his orgasm hit him like blast of dynamite, that his orgasm ripped through him like a sonic boom found only in the deepest Wakandan vibranium mines. He wanted to say his orgasm was a climatic resolve to the build up he was put through.

Instead he couldn't remember it. He blacked out from the intensity of the release, utterly exhausted but so fulfilled. In that between space of perfect serenity, T'Challa forgot about Wakanda and the crown for five whole seconds. He instead floated in nirvana, utterly content.

After coming back to consciousness, the king noticed that both of his lovers were laying down on either side of him. He was flooded with feelings of peaceful joy, a happiness that could only be obtained after a sufficient and thorough fucking.

“Hey.” W'Kabi said smiling. T'Challa smiled weakly before he looked to his right to see Erik breathing calmly with his eyes close.

“Hello.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, my hips should get their feeling back come morning.” Erik chuckled at that.

“Really, my king? I beat it up that good?” Erik purred. His suggestive comment has no weigh behind it as he was too drained for another round. Sexually and emotionally, Erik was tried.

On the other side of T'Challa, W'Kabi grunted in his displeasure.

“Allow me to build a bridge so you might get over yourself.” He replied. T'Challa snorted and Erik was too tired to glare properly.

“Whatever you say Little One. You and his highness know the bounds of my prowes-” T'Challa summoned the last bit of strength in him to smack down hard onto Erik's bare chest, causing the other to shout.

“What was that for?!”

“For being an ass to him twenty minutes ago.” T'Challa replied, alluding to Erik's early attempts to make W'Kabi back down.

“It was for the better.” Erik muttered, rubbing the sore spot on his chest. “I forced him to take charge.”

“Whatever you say.” W'Kabi said shrugging. Erik was right but he was far too tired to hear him gloat about it. Maybe another day.

There was silence for a while as the three man laid down side to side, shoulders barely touching. Somewhere between T'Challa grabbing their hands to hold in his and the room dimming its lights automatically, their heartbeats synced together once more. This time the steady rhyme lulled them to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment so I can improve! I will be posting an alternate ending because I loved the other option and didn't want it to go to waste. Thanks for reading!


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